


Frankenstein

by LilyCarmenBlack



Series: THE CHAOS SERIES [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 1970s, 1980s, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Blood Magic, Dark Magic, Death Eaters, F/M, First War with Voldemort, Knights of Walpurgis, Magic, Murder, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Potions, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Politics (Harry Potter), Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Wakes & Funerals, War, Witchcraft, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2020-09-02 02:33:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20268583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyCarmenBlack/pseuds/LilyCarmenBlack
Summary: For as long as humans could remember, the Dark Arts had clung to those who sought it. From Morgan le Fay, to Gellert Grindelwald and Tom Riddle, this indestructible power had twisted lives and turned even the purest of souls down evil's winding road. For Rosemary Stein and Severus Snape, Dark Magic was simply just a way of survival - because in this world, the Dark Lord won.





	1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I only own Doctor Stein/Rosemary Stein and her story, and the various characters which are not part of the Harry Potter Universe. This is the first part of a series, so there are other characters who turn up who are not mine. All things that are recognisable, belong to J. K. Rowling. **

* * *

**** **Chapter One**

**Blood Flies and Undertakers**  
****

In Knockturn Alley, Blood-Flies were the first indication that someone had died. They clung to the body, sucking the blood from the skin, before burrowing their eggs deep into the deceased, that by the time the body reached an Undertaker, a new infestation of flies had begun to eat away at the corpse's flesh. As such it was curial to remove the eggs, and the larva, much to the disgust of nearly every Undertaker under Doctor Morte's pay.

Henryk Skeleinton was one such customer, and as Doctor Stein leaned over him, her wand burned a deep red. Quickly, before the larva could crawl off, Doctor Stein snatched up a scalpel and slashed open the wizard's skin. Eugene Grail, (otherwise known as the-most-annoying-intern-Doctor-Morte-had-ever-hired and why-in-the-name-of-Merlin-did-you-find-an-apprentice-who’s-terrified-of-blood), shrieked, and covering his eyes, as Doctor Stein plucked the larva from Mr Shackleton's cheek.

The boy screamed again as the larva curled upwards, sensing a pair of warm, fleshy fingers, but before it could sink its razor teeth into Doctor Stein's hand, it was tossed into a bucket. The larva squirmed, flopping around helplessly for a couple of seconds, as its brother and sisters enveloped it, eating the weakling before it could move.

Turning away from the body, the Doctor wiped down her hands, the red-brown blood staining the white lab coat, and gave Eugene a thick glare. Hidden burins a pair of spectacles, her ice blue eyes seemed to burn under the green operating light, her lips pulling into a thick line as she rubbed her hands, trying to keep warm. Unlike the other Undertakers, Doctor Stein's lab was incredibly cold.

Situated right next to the River Acheron, the Wizarding River that ran invisibly alongside the Themes, it was the perfect place for an Undertakers, as souls could leave as fast as they came. The downside, however, was that it was always freezing, and unlike her colleges, Doctor Stein refused to install warming charms or wood-burning stove, insisting that the warmth interfered with her work.

'You have to stop shrieking,' she snapped, as she walked over to the sink, rubbing a bar of _Mrs Vossen's Purifying Soap_, between her hands and dunking them in a basin filled with steaming potion cured water.

She hissed as the Stripping Potion burned away the hairs and potential diseases. Once clean, she raised her hands, the potion-water dripping from her nails before rubbing her palms on a clean towel.

'I'm sorry, Doctor Stein,' Eugene murmured, running a hand through his dark hair. 'I just don't like Blood-Flies,'

Doctor Stein grunted, and removed her wand from her hair, allowing the thick black locks to fall to the middle of her back.

‘Well, you better,' she sapped checking her wrist-watch and tapping the face. 'They'll come up in your practical exam, and I won't be there to help you.'

With a sharp tap, her wand hit the side of the equipment table, and every blade stood to attention. The blood cleaned itself, vanishing instantly, and the bucket full of Blood-Larva set itself on fire. Another tap echoed around the basement, and soon everything was packing itself away, the green light turning off, leaving the room dark.

The Doctor held out her hands, catching her bag as it dropped into her hands. Even the corpse was boxed up, tucked safely in his coffin like smoked fish in a tin. Eugene's skin was a pale green by the time Doctor Stein locked the lab door, and he had to be pulled down the corridor, her hands wrapped tightly around his skin.

E.L.M and Wizards, Undertakers & Embalmers, wasn't the largest establishment on Knockturn Alley. However, it was by far the most used. Once, there had been a multitude of morticians, all smothering each other in half-arsed desperation to be the best, that by eighteen-fifty, they were all bankrupt; well, all except for E.L.M.

By the time Doctor Stein and Eugene reached the waiting room, a dozen witches and wizards sat, their fear and nervousness rising with each breath. Somewhere pacing, while others were reading half-heartily or clutching their wands. As soon as the Undertaker and her Apprentice walked through the door, however, all eyes set on them. Then everyone was talking, trying too over shout each other in the desperation for answers.

'How did papa die? Was it painful?' Miss Skeleinton cried, rushing up to Doctor Stein and grabbing her hands.

She was small, smaller than the Doctor, and yet her clothes were far too beautiful. Her robes were a soft blue, decorated with butterfly's and was so elegant; they barely made a sound as she walked. Her blonde hair, much like deceased father, was pinned up, and practical.

'May we see him?' Widow Skeleinton asked, stepping forward, and pulling her daughter away. 'Please!'

Unlike her daughter, Widow Skeleinton was the epiphany of grief. She wore black, from the top of her head, right down to her leather shoes. Around her wrist, sat a small wreath of lilies, and as the Doctor took a small step back, she sighed.

'Doctor Stein. Was there any sign of physical distress?'

She couldn't see who spoke, but rather, understood that the man was hidden in the crowd. There was a flash, bright and white, and the Doctor blinked. She scowled, rubbing her eyes, taming the soreness that lingered behind them.

'Was he a Knight!' a woman suddenly shouted. 'Did you find a Mark?'

With those words, everyone fell silent, and all eyes fixed on the reporter at the back of the room. Half hidden in the doorway, and with her blonde hair in s-waves, face framed by gaudy red glasses, Rita Skeeter seemed to shrink under the Doctor's cold glare. Her photographer, the man who'd asked her the previous question, suddenly darted out the door, as the Doctor's face set in a cold line.

Miss Skeeter backed further into the corner as the Doctor took off her lab-coat, handing the bloodied garment to Eugene, revealing her bottle-green blouse, freshly pressed trousers and pointy black books. Although working, face smeared with blood and gods knew what else, the Undertaker still managed to look imposing. Crossing her arms, Doctor Stein pursed her lips, cocking her head, and in three quick strides, was approaching the reporter.

'We do not release information so callously,' she said, voice hard. 'If you wish to find out whether Lord Skeleinton was a Knight, then I'm afraid you'll have to ask the Ministry. As I have told you before, Mis Skeeter, E.L.M does not release client information; that part of our contract. So until you expire, I'm afraid, the public will never know.'

Turning her head, Doctor Stein looked at Eugene, and a sly grin on her lips.

'Mr Grail,' she announced a cold smile on her lips. 'Why don't you escort Miss Skeeter out, before she tarnishes Lord Skeleinton reputation,'

Eugene rushed forward, taking Rita by the arm, and after a lot of hissing, and 'how dare you do this' the reporter was tossed out onto the snow. Nodding, Doctor Stein inspected her audience.

'If Widow Skeleinton could come with me, please,' she said, arm extended. 'There are some things I would like to discuss Lord Skeleinton's funeral,'

With a muffled sob and a shuffle of feet, Doctor Stein escorted Widow Skeleinton by the arm into her study, Eugene holding out the door for them as they walked through. Candles flickered to life as the two stepped inside, revealing a large square room, with royal blue wallpaper and a dark wood furnishings. Eventually after a mad dash to clean up the self-pouring tea, and once the Apprentice had left, Doctor Stein took a seat behind her desk; she leaned across, giving Widow Skeleinton a rare look.

The clock struck nine.

'How long have you known that Lord Skeleinton had Stage Nine, Romanian Dragon-Pox?' she asked, as Widow Skeleinton took a sip of her milky tea.

'Four months,'

Doctor Stein raised her eyebrows and rubbed her chin.

'And do you know how could have contracted it?'

Widow Skeleinton shook her head.

'I don't know,' she pressed, breathing heavily. 'I thought that one of his employees could have caught it, but considering that no one's dead, I have absolutely no idea where it came from.'

Doctor Stein picked up a quill, wrote something down, and looked back at Widow Skeleinton.

'Elenor,' she said, breathing heavily, and set her phoenix quill on her page, letting the ink bubble. 'I know we've never seen eye to eye, especially at school, but I have to know, did Henryk ever leave the country?'

Even in the darkly lit room, with red cheeks, and a runny nose, Elenor Skeleinton nodded.

'Yes,' she said, finally. 'To France; he was visiting his mother. He bought a travel permit. I can show it to you.'

Doctor Stein frowned, and leaned over her desk, taking the scroll of parchment from Widow Skeleinton's shaking hand.

** _Certificate of Voyage_ **

** _I, Henryk Skeleinton, do by swear on the laws set down by the Minister for Magic except and agree to the regulations retired for me to travel to Europe. I will be in Paris, France, from the 3rd of August, 1979, to the 25th of September, 1979. I will be visiting my elderly mother._ **

** _Signed and approved by Malcolm Penel on the 1st of August 1979._ **

'And have you been tested?' Doctor Stein asked, placing the parchment on the table, letting the certificate form a wall between them.

Elenor nodded.

'Yes, both Sophia and I were tested along with our staff by St Mungo’s Hospital when we found out. There is no chance of us contracting the virus.'

Doctor Stein nodded.

'Good, well that takes care of something,' she paused. 'May I keep this?'

Elenor nodded. Doctor Stein sat up and smoothed down her trousers.

'Do you have his will ready?' she asked as if the last few seconds had never happened.

Elenor shook her head.

'No, not yet, I am going over it with the lawyers, but I would like to discuss the funeral,'

Two hours later, after a lengthy discussion of a floating or man-carried casket, and what flowers were to be placed and who exactly was present at the ceremony, Elenor Skeleinton finally left Doctor Stein's study. The Doctor stretched, her arms rising above her head as she stared at the stack of papers in from of her. Even with all the evidence, something didn't add up.

Eventually, after several minutes, Doctor Stein rose from her desk, placing all her documents into a drawer. After locking it with both a key and a spell, the witch set about cleaning herself up. She changed, swapping the green blouse and black trousers for a black dress. After pulling it over her corset and chemise, she quickly set about washing her face, scrubbing of makeup until her cheeks were raw. As she turned away from the skin, pulling on another white robe, her necklace, a single copper coin seemed to shine.

Doctor Stein looked at it, inspecting the markings. She frowned. She'd have to go and see the glamour-smith again. Sighing, Doctor Stein turned away from the skin and reached up to grab a book from her shelf. She'd just sat back down and was beginning to read when a knock broke the witch from her musings.

She looked up, removing her glasses as Doctor Morte entered her study. Although rumoured to be a million years older, a woman who many deemed to be immortal, Doctor Eileithyia. L. Morte was surprisingly handsome for a something plus four hundred-year-old. Her hair was only beginning to turn grey, wrinkles barely forming across her ebony skin, and her eyes were far too blue to be real. Originating from Greece, the witch knew the in's and out's of every death, every possible disease, every corpse before they even arrived at her door; a Death-Watcher. There was a reason, after all, why E.L.M was the best undertakers in Europe.

That evening, she was wearing a white blouse, the sleeve held down by string and a high waisted rusted-red skirt. It fell to below her knees, the white overcoat hiding her curvy figure and her thick, natural which erupted like a halo around her head. Eileithyia sat down in the chair Widow Skeleinton had vacated, onyx cufflinks clinking as she set her arms on Doctor Stein's desk. She smiled as Doctor Stein produced a coffee, her semi-wrinkled hands tightly latching around the bone-china.

'So, Rosemary,’ she spoke, taking a deep sip, eyes boring into Doctor Stein's skull as she massaged her forehead. 'How did it go?'

Morte's voice was soft and warm, a gentle tone against the dark wood, and Victorian-style decor that made up Doctor Stein's office. Doctor Stein rolled her eyes, kicking off her heels and leaned back on her chair, the plush fabric warm against her skin.

'I have no bloody idea how you do it, Eile,' she breathed, eyes closed. 'I hate going over the details—and the paperwork. Oh, the bloody paperwork!'

Eileithyia laughed, teeth a pearly white.

'Now, Rosie, train you I must,' she said, setting her coffee on the table. 'After all, you'll inherit this place when I'm gone,'

Doctor Stein opened one eye and gave her a long, sour look.

'The day you die,' she said, putting both feet up onto her desk, 'is the day the dead rise.'

Eileithyia shrugged and raised her eyebrows.

'We'll see,' she breathed taking another sip, and reached into her pocket, producing a long envelope.

'A black owl dropped this off earlier today,' she said, handing it over. 'Damn thing bit me—it's the Blacks, again. They’re the only family I know that that chooses to send mail via a Grimm-Owl; crazy nutters.'

Doctor Stein raised an eyebrow.

'How do you know it's them?' she asked, picking up her letter opener, and slicing it through the parchment. 'You've hardly ever met them.'

She paused, eyes narrowed.

'You haven't been reading my letters have you?' Doctor Stein breathed as Eileithyia began to draw her finger around the patterns on the cup. 'I get enough crass from the Department of Letters already.'

Eileithyia rolled her eyes, smirking.

'No need to murder me, Doctor Stein. It's just a feeling. Besides, it’s well known that the Black’s love any species of Grimm.’

Rolling her eyes, Doctor Stein let the letter unfold. As she did so, a small plum of grey smoke rose into the air. For the briefest of seconds, it flickered and spat, as if trying to read her face. She laughed when she realised the Department of Letters would have failed to open the letter. Once having determined who she was, the smoke transformed into a constellation. Doctor Stein's stomach dropped.

'Is that the Leo?' Eileithyia queried, leaning forward so that her face almost broke through the smoke. 'Isn't that pretty,'

Rising to her feet, Doctor Stein slipped on her shoes, grabbing her coat from the hanger, and tucked the letter into her pocket.

'I have to go,' she announced, rushing out the door 'I won't be long!'

Eileithyia's head appeared around her door as she hurried down the corridor.

'I'll count this as your lunch break!' she cried.

Pausing, Doctor Stein turned back, flipping her employer off, before rushing down the corridor; she disapparated to the sound of Eileithyia's laughter.

Doctor Stein appeared at the ruins of a small Abby, her coat swaying in the wind. Surrounded by darkness, and snow, she was the only one about. Ice crunched under her as she hurried down the graves, her steps turning into a jog. She saw him before he spotted her.

He sat against his family's tomb, cigarette in his hand, the smoke curling around him. His clothes were, surprisingly muggle, and he wore jeans over a black shirt; casual enough, and yet, somehow screamed nobility. The Grimm-Owl sat on his shoulder, black feathered and yellowed eyed. It started at Doctor Stein as she approached, never once blinking. It must have shifted or something, because a second later, the wizard was lifting his black-haired head, and stating at Doctor Stein.

The wizard rose, and with a deep breath, thew himself at the undertaker. The witch caught her friend, eyes widening as the eighteen-year-old began to shake, his breath quickening as his arms wrapped tightly around her. Stiffly, Doctor Stein raised her hands, enveloping the young boy in a warm hug.

'What happened?' she asked as he took a step back, grey eyes zooming around, waiting for something or someone to jump out and kill him.

'We need your help,' he breathed, sucking in the cigarette smoke.

Doctor Stein frowned.

'We?' she enquired.

'KREACHER!'

There was a loud, jaw-snapping pop, and a millisecond later, the house-elf appeared next to the boy. It bowed, muttering's its respect for his young master, and turned to face Doctor Stein. His lips curled when it saw her, and he shrank so quickly that Doctor Stein thought he might disappear.

'Squib-born,' it hissed, sniffing as if to make sure.

Doctor Stein froze, her hand travelling up to her throat—the glamour must be fading. Shaking herself, Doctor Stein smiled weakly, as the wizard looked down at his elf, glaring.

'That's enough, Kreacher,' the boy snapped, eyes thinning 'She's a friend,'

'A friend?' Kreacher asked, almost mockingly, as if he couldn't believe that his perfect, precious, mother-pleasing master was friends with a muggleborn.

'Yes, Kreacher,' the wizard said again, pressing the cigarette to his lips and taking a deep, hungry breath. 'A friend—you will treat her with respect. Don't tell mother.'

Even though he'd instructed it, the house-elf bristled, not liking the preposition at all. Even when he bowed, accepting the order, his eyes were burning with disgust.

Regulus Black straightened, dropping the cigarette, and crushing it under his boot.

'Rosemary, I need you to be my witness,' he said, getting to the point, and breathing sharply. 'I need you to be my Undertaker,'

* * *

**Dear Readers,**

**So, yes, this is the rewrite of 'The Potioneer and the Undertaker.' I changed the title so that it would fit in with the series. It has taken me a very long time to get this done, and while, yes I know I should be finishing off other stories, this called to me first. I'm sorry, and yes, I will get around to everything, eventually.**  
****

**Also, unlike like the original story, this one was set in 1979. I have no idea when it finishes, but considering how it will pan out, I am sorry for what will happen. I hope you like the rewrite of this story, and please, leave a review, so I know what you all think.**  
****

**From**  
****

**Lily.**  
****


	2. Drowning Men

**Disclaimer: I only own Doctor Stein/Rosemary Stein and her story, and the various characters which are not part of the Harry Potter Universe. This is the first part of a series, so there are other characters who turn up who are not mine. All things that are recognisable, belong to J. K. Rowling. **

**I have rewritten this chapter.**

* * *

**Chapter Two **

**Drowning Men**

The climb down to the cave would have been dangerous even without the ice. January's icy winds blew against Regulus and Rosemary's backs, pushing them so that they twisted and turned, only catching themselves before they fell to a neck-breaking death. Although dressed in thick coats, and with enough warming-charms to kill a polar bear, the two still shivered.

Only house-elf soldiered on, wading through the wind like a slow-moving bear, that for a second, Rosemary wondered if he were oblivious to the cold. However, the elf's hands were cold, Kreacher's fingers turning a horrible shade of blue, that even before they reached the cave's entrance, Regulus was begging him to take shelter in his coat.

They crossed boulders, Rosemary slipping more then once, and if it wasn't for Regulus, and his seeker-abilities, then the Undertaker would have smashed her head on the rocks below. Eventually, they made it to a small pond, to where a large half-submerged slit gleamed darkly. Kreacher, jumped in, curling up like a cannonball, and smashing into the sea.

'I hope you can swim,' Regulus said, taking off his coat, and the heavy fabric pulled around him.

He slid the boulder, sinking like a stone, taking Rosemary's gasp with him as he went down. His head and shoulders emerging from the deep a few moments later, hair slick against his skin. Turning, the Heir of Black grinned, giving the Undertaker a wild smile that remained her too much of his brother, and waved for her to follow. Taking a breath, Rosemary took off her coat, tapped her clothes with her wand, making them feather-light and followed after Regulus.

The water was freezing, icy, even colder than the time she'd been waterboarded by a group of young Knights, who'd had no idea who she was. There was a splash as Regulus began to follow Kreacher, who'd taken the opportunity to swim in. Breathing deeply, Rosemary staled her never and dove down.

Everything was murky underwater, and the Undertaker's eyes sting from the salt, and as she shot into the cave, a part of her thanked her mother for those swimming lessons when she was a child. Her fingers caught on the narrow walls as she swam, skin breaking as she passed, and in the dark, the water turned red. Breaking for air, Rosemary smacked her head against the ceiling, and she scowled as her hair was coated with a wet-sliminess only ever found in caves.

She heard the slow slosh and fall of water as Regulus hauled himself onto a small stony island. He hacked and spat, glaring daggers at Kreacher who was waiting patiently, a small smile on the elf's lips. Rosemary scowled as she disappeared back underwater.

That bloody elf!

Eventually, she rose, robes and hair sopping, shivering as the air burned icily down through her lungs. For a couple of seconds, she lay on the cave floor, lazily studying the ceiling, catching the small marks and cracks that had occurred hundreds, if not thousands of years ago.

No one had been here, in a long, long time.

Regulus was poking around the cave wall with his wand, when Rosemary stood up, listening to Kreacher's quiet muttering. He nodded every few seconds, right hand searching with his left wand hand willed a bright light to erupt around the room. A wiry smile rose to Rosemary's lips; they looked like a pair of drowned rats.

Although she had met him barely an hour ago, Regulus still had to tell Rosemary why she needed her to come with him. At first, she was convinced he was going to tell her his Death Plan, or write down a will, or maybe even complain about his last school year, and yet, he hadn't done any of those things.

She'd come along mostly on the basis that she'd promised, however, as Regulus walked around the cave several times, taping the wall and muttering, Rosemary began to wonder if following the Scion of Black into the unknown was as good as an idea as it originally sounded.

Regulus turned to face her, pulling her out of her thoughts, his hand extended, eyes eerily bright. Kreacher had situated himself on Regulus' shoulder and was watching Rosemary, waiting for her to move. A small smile was on his lips, mocking almost and he nodded at her, smile widening to a grin.

'You coming?' he asked, hand still offered. 'We're almost there. I promise.'

Rosemary sighed, fixing him with a thin expression, and before she could change her mind, took his hand, gripping his fingers tight and pulled him close. Her arms wrapped around his back, carefully avoiding Kreacher, squeezing his shoulder's tight. Regulus froze, body stiffening as Rosemary let him go, smiling weakly.

'I hope so,' she said, as he relaxed. 'You've brought me this far.'

Regulus nodded and then looked at her belt bag that was still wrapped around her waist.

'Do you have a knife,'

Rosemary scowled.

'I'm an Undertaker,' she said, handing over a scalpel, 'of course I have a - Regulus!'

But it was too late. While she was talking, the youngest son of Orion Black had drawn the scalpel across his palm. Blood bubbled to the surface, and Regulus winced.

'Do you know how many nerve endings you just fucked up,' Rosemary hissed, as he pressed his bleeding hand across the cave, dragging it to the right. 'Or how many germs you've just infected your hand with,'

Regulus shrugged turning back.

'It needed payment,' he said, handing her back to the bloodied scalpel. 'Watch,'

A silver glow suddenly erupted from the stone wall, piercing the darkness and creating the outline of an arch. Rosemary covered her eyes, pressing skin too skin, as the light intensified. It didn't fade; in fact, it increased.

'You can look now,' Regulus muttered, taking Rosemary's hands and lowering them by her side.

The silver archway and bloodstained was gone, and in its place was a perfect doorway, leading into a darkness beyond. Reaching for his bloody hand, Rosemary took Regulus' wrist, nails digging into skin, and together, the two wizards and the elf walked through.

The Lake was huge, stretching out to the point where all Rosemary could see was darkness. She conjured a ball of lights and sent it up into the caverned sky. It hung like a light bulb, and as the darkness ran from the spluttering light, the Undertaker's eyes were round. A faded green light burned on a shore too distant to swim, and the water was eerily still, reflecting nothing, not even the light or the velvety black. And where the water met their embankment, a long coppery chain began to appear.

Kneeling, Regulus picked it up, flinching as it began to wrap around his hand, and with one sharp tug, a ghostly boat materialised from the gloom. It reminded Rosemary of a small Viking ship, the tips elongated and proud, two-headed snakes baring down at them as Regulus walked towards it.

'It's beautiful,' Rosemary breathed, Regulus nodding as he placed a hand on the bow.

It shimmered beneath his hand, hardening as skin touched wood.

'Yes,' Regulus agreed. 'Shall we sail?'

It took the two a couple of seconds to get into the boat, and by the time Regulus and Rosemary had realised that there wasn't supposed to be any oars, the boat was moving by itself. Kreacher clutched Regulus's leg, his eyes so large Rosemary feared they'd fall from his skull.

She frowned. Why was he so scared? Catching her stare, Regulus met Rosemary's gaze.

'I'm here on a mission,' he admitted, voice heavy as bricks. 'Don't touch the water.'

Rosemary frowned.

'Not planning too,' Rosemary said. 'Were you sent by the Dark Lord? To kill me?'

The Knight of Walpurgis said nothing. Taking his silence as gospel, Rosemary began to look around the cave, wondering if this would be a good place to die. She sighed; obviously not. Eventually, the three reached the island. It was tiny, about the side of a small carriage, horses and all included of course, and as Rosemary stepped out, she helped Regulus. If he was here to kill her, on the command of the Dark Lord, she might as well help him get to it; she'd rather like it to all be over.

In the middle of the island, there was a basin, a floating bird-bath, and it was where the light was coming from. Curiosity eventually got the better of her, and slowly, Rosemary walked towards it. However, even before she could take a step, an invisible barrier blocked her path. Her magic strained against it, fighting the invisible wall. Sighing, Regulus pulled her back and raised his wand. Smiling softly, Rosemary allowed her wand to drop, her icy eyes meeting her friend's grey.

'You going to kill me now?' she asked, 'I'd rather like you to get it over with,'

Regulus waved his wand, but not in the slashing lightning bolt Rosemary had used one too many times but rather a difficult moment that caused her to fall. It was only when he walked past her that the Undertaker realised he'd broken the barrier.

'What was that for?' Rosemary asked, snatching up her wand as she stood. 'I thought you were going to kill me?'

He hovering over the bird-bath, a conjured goblet in his hand. Regulus turned to look at her, a wry grin on his lips.

'I never said the Dark Lord sent me,' the Knight shook his head, face shadowed in the green light. 'No, I'm here to kill him.'

Rosemary blinked; and then just to make sure, blinked again.

'Pardon?' she asked, voice tight. 'Say that again?'

Regulus sighed, and rolled his eyes, stepping back from the magical bird-bath.

'I. Am Going. To. Kill. The. Dark. Lord.' he said as if talking to a child; he turned to Kreacher. 'Kreacher, I order you not to stop me.'

The elf bowed, sealing the spell.

'Yes, Master,'

Regulus looked at the Undertaker.

'You too Rosemary,'

Scowling, the Undertaker crossed her arms.

'What are you talking about? And how are you going to murder our "Dark Lord and Saviour"?'

Not getting the joke, Regulus cocked his head at his friend. Shaking her head, Rosemary waved her hands at him.

'Doesn't matter,' she sighed, rolling her eyes. 'How are you going to kill him — Dumbledore can't,'

'By destroying his Horcruxes,' Regulus stated; then before Kreacher, or Rosemary or even God, could stop him, dipped the goblet into the floating-magical-bird-bath and began to drink.

He drained the goblet; the screaming began.

Rosemary pounced on the wizard, pulling him away. But her attempts were useless, and as Regulus screamed, cutting through Kreacher's cries of "Master, Master, no let Kreacher drink it! Let Kreacher drink it!" Rosemary could only watch in horror as her friend struggled and kicked.

However, he kept drinking, even when the screaming became too much and the Undertaker felt that her ears would burn. He cried for his father, begged his mother not to push Lord Black down the stairs, and screamed for Sirius to come back. He tore at his left arm, nails ripping at his robes as he tried to rip the Dark Mark off.

Catching him, Rosemary, tired to pull him away, but the part of the seventeen-year-old that was still lucid, pushed her back, throwing her to the ground, a nervous, angry fire exploding in those grey eyes. Suddenly he pushed away, Rosemary stumbling behind him, goblet falling. Snatching it up, Rosemary watched him as he began to sway, catching him before he could fall.

'Water,' he gasped, staggering around like a dead man. 'Water.'

'Yes,' Rosemary gasped, tears rolling down her cheeks. 'Water. Aguamenti!'

Wand pressed to the cup, she watched as a clear liquid filled the goblet, and she pressed it under Regulus' lips. However, before the goblet could touch his mouth, it vanished, and Regulus' cries grew louder. Again and again, Rosemary tried to summon water, it vanished.

Turning to Kreacher, Rosemary glared at the elf.

'Help me!'

But Kreacher could only watch, his little legs stuck fast. His eyes widened as they settled on Regulus, and his mouth opened wide.

'Master!'

Spinning, Rosemary saw that Regulus was clawing towards the Lake, and as she slipped down the embankment after him, a bone-white hand rose from the water. A wild shriek escaped Rosemary's lips as an army of inferi, or dead woman, men and children moved towards the island. One took Regulus' head, pressing it deeply underwater, its eyes vacant. But it was too late, inferi was rising, coming up from all sides as they staggered towards them, dragging Regulus with them.

'NO!' Rosemary screamed, and before she could stop herself, cast herself into the water.

The inferi shrieked, as a ball of fire exploded from her wand, shattering their ranks like a cannonball. The water was heavy, and her motions were slow-moving, but even in that cold depth, Rosemary swam. Her hand latched around Regulus' arm, and she pulled him to the surface, as a hundred arms scrapped at her. Somehow she managed to get her wand arm free, and with a frenzied scream, fiendfyre escaped from her wand.

The air exploded, dragons made from chaos-fire unfurling their winds as they roared. They dove and bound, snatching up inferi within their maws, avoiding their caster with dangerous leaps, as Rosemary dragged Regulus to shore. As the dragons continued their fiery dance, Kreacher appeared by Rosemary's side. He threw himself on Regulus' still form and began to cry. In the elf's hands, there was a locket.

'Oh, Master Regulus!' The elf shrieked, but before he could confine his morning, Rosemary cast him away.

'Stay there!' she snapped, pointing her wand at the elf. 'Move, and I'll rip out your spine.'

Seemingly terrified Kreacher stayed put. Turning back to her friend, Rosemary pressed her ear against his chest, listening for a heartbeat. When she found none, she formed her hands into a clasp and pressed them against his chest. Breathing deeply, she put all her weight on his chest and pushed down.

She winced as Regulus' ribs gave way, a horrible crunching sound scraping against her hands. After a few dreadful seconds, she tipped back his mouth, pressing her lips to his and breathing deeply; his chest rose. She carried on, switching between chest compressions and mouth to mouth for a while. Tears were rolling down her cheeks by the time she sat back, screaming weakly as the fire curled inwards. Tipping her head backwards, Rosemary closed her eyes, letting the fire surge in, swarming around them as it danced with her emotions.

'So this is how I die,' she breathed, looking down at Regulus' corpse. 'I'm sorry, my friend.'

A small hand suddenly landed on her shoulder, Kreacher's eyes burning with feverish anger, and just before the fire could touch her, they apparated. Rosemary landed on her back, the crack ringing in her ears, vision spinning. Regulus lay beside her, his head tilted to the left, eyes dark.

Carefully, Rosemary lifted her head, pressing her cold hand to her forehead. She was in someone's back garden; the flowers are beautifully grown despite being the middle of winter. The grass was green, not a trace of snow falling from the sky, and as she looked up at the house, she realised that Kreacher had run off somewhere, most likely abandoning them to rot on a wizarding garden.

Rosemary groaned, lying back. They'd be found soon, that she knew, and the poor witch or wizard who came across their foreign bodies would see the Dark Mark on Regulus' arm — and then Rosemary would have to kill them. Her hand tightened around her wand as the sound of a door opening, pierced her ears. Rising, she slashed her wand in front of her, sending a curse in the direction of the door.

'Ow! Fuck!'

'Rosemary?'

Doctor Stein froze her eyes settling on the small, dark-haired figure of Freda Grey. Born in Mexico, and raised in Britain, Freda had grown in the years since Hogwarts. Her curly hair fell down her shoulder's, and she was dressed in a silky blue dress. Moving away from the door, Freda rushed over to Doctor Stein's side, her hand reaching down to touch Rosemary's head. She hissed, drawing back, as the door opened, and her husband came through.

Edmund Grey's face paled when he spotted Rosemary and Regulus, and in a flash, had appeared by their side. Blond, Edmund was a few years older than Freda, having attended Hogwarts around the same time as Rosemary. As the Lord approached, he carefully sat next to Rosemary and after a few hesitant seconds, sat her up

"What happened?" Edmund asked as he ran his wand down Rosemary's arms, healing the cut's she'd never known where there.

Rosemary shook her head, lips tight. She couldn't tell — never, not even to a friend. Freda was kneeling next to Regulus; her attention fixed on the Black Heir. Healer instincts kicked in, and a second later a holographic image of Regulus' corpse floated in front of Freda's face. Rosemary must have blacked out, because the next time she saw Freda, the younger woman was looking at her with a warm, gleeful expression and Edward was gone.

'He's alive!' Freda gasped, pulling Rosemary's head onto her lap, stroking her hair. 'He'll live. You did so well.'

It took Rosemary a couple of seconds to realised that the house's other occupants had staggered out. Dressed in robes and fine cloth, a few other Purebloods of lesser-known ancestry peered out. Edmund was talking, he and a maid pulling them away from the door in the hopes of distracting his guests.

'There's nothing to see here!" Rosemary heard Edmund say. "Just a Portkey. They'll be up in a second - I'm afraid they're a bit late you see…"

His voice disappeared as he closed the door. Freda left Rosemary's side, placing her head back on the lawn, as she rushed back over to Regulus. Rosemary winced as she turned to look at the boy. He was twitching now, teeth clamped shut, as Freda fussed over him, her wand glowing a bright light. Kreacher stood by his feet, locket still in his grip.

The Undertaker scowled. Was that the Horcrux?

Freda's face reappeared in her swirling vision.

'I'm going to have to remove your clothes,' she whispered, face pained. 'Sorry,'

With a flick of her wand, Rosemary's vanished blouse with a skilled practice only a healer could obtain. As soon as she did, Doctor Stein stiffened, but like Regulus, the ex-Ravenclaws all ready knew who they were - and they didn't have a care in the world.

'I've managed to get everyone back into the ballroom,'

Edward was back. Rosemary winced, closing her eyes. Why was everything going black?

'She's bleeding heavily; we might have to get her St Mungo's,'

Was that Freda?

'No, we can't.' Edmund now. 'You know what they'll do to them. We keep them here,'

Rosemary felt her body lifting, a spell cushioning her back, as she floated forward. Her mind spun, working a thousand miles an hour. Eile was not going to like this, not one little bit. Somewhere in the back of her mind Rosemary wondered how many corpses she was un-attending, if Doctor Morte was cursing her name, and if when she reopened her eyes, the God her step-mother loved, would send her down to hell.

Then everything went black.

* * *

**Dear Readers, **

**So this is chapter two… sorry I took so long to upload, I am having a rather stressful holiday. **

**Like always please review for me to know that you think of this series: it will get dark, soooo dark. (Evil laughter) **

**Hope to see you all soon in the next chapter, **

**Lily.**


	3. Well. It's Been A Long One.

13th of April, 2020

Dear my wonderful, amazing readers,

I suspect some of you were waiting for an update like this. I certainly knew that at some point I would be writing this letter with not only a heavy heart but an understanding that I am irritating the ever-living hell out of some of you. There are hundreds, if not thousands of accounts who all say the same thing, so to those who have stayed with me from the beginning:

I’m sorry. So gods-damn sorry.

Over the past year, my life has shifted, I find that I am more drawn to my own novels and the desaturate attempt to finish any of these fanfics are ever so thin. I will admit, there are some fanfictions are in the works, some which I have poured my heart and soul into. Whether or not they ever get uploaded is another thing entirely.

I understand that due to the popularity of “Death’s Hand,” and other stories, I feel utterly ashamed to be closing it down. However, due to personal health, several time conflicts, and a collection of _wonderful_ learning disabilities, it suddenly became impossibly to upload. Weeks turned to months, months turned to years, and in most cases, things where abandoned.

I am also a history buff, in all sense of the word. I love studying and researching and falling into endless holes that rip apart the victorian-made construct that our modern society has firmly held over history, just because people told me I could not. I can tell you endless tales of women defending castles and keeps in Medieval Europe. I can tell you how a pair of bodies, stays and corsets were not the devils we are all told. I can tell you how the Pyramids of Giza are one), not as impressive as the Pyramid of Djoser, and second) not made by slaves and were, in fact, most likely constructed by farmers.

However, while I am indeed enslaved to archaeology and history, I am also a perfectionist. Research is my lifeblood, and I guess that’s just the Slytherin inside of me. I want to be perfect in everything I do, have the right facts, and be over critical. This certainly comes through in my writing. I can barely look at all the stories I wrote years ago without cringing. Not just because of the history, but because of the writing.

This is another reason why I am stopping.

I began fanfiction at a time when I was in desperate need of it. At a time, I was so emotionally distraught and mentally tortured, that one wrong move, would have me throwing myself off the nearest cliff. It was not very pleasant. Those years were chaotic, nasty and mad, and yet, fanfiction I found. There will always be a special place for me for these sites, a place where nerds can come together and imagine. Or instead, that is why I was here: so we, the reader, can expand the world-building.

It is here where I leave you, where I take a step back, and after close to over fifteen years, close down all my stories and accounts. I have loved every bloody second of it, the bad and the good, the terrible comments and the amazing, and the massive swell of support that has risen as my wiring has hopefully improved. Whether it was with my first account or this final one, I will never forget that this site, and it’s readers saved a muddled teenager from throwing herself off Ben-Nevis.

With that rather dark turn, I give you to the end of the month to read. I give you until the 30th of April, 2020. Then everything will be gone.

Thank you. I wish you all a careful isolation.

Yours truthfully, and finally,

Lily Carmen Black


	4. Hi, again

**25th of April, 2020**

Dear my wonderful, amazing readers, 

It has roughly been a week, or thereabout since I announced my departure on Fanfiction, ArchiveOfOurOwn, and Wattpad. In those seven days (*cough cough*, twelve days, Lily, TWELVE DAYS), many of you have left lovely messages of good luck and support. Others have asked me to keep on writing, some have wanted me to keep things up, and a few of you are asking to take over the stories. After some thinking and a long moral talk with myself, I will leave an updated version of my resignation letter. 

  1. After staring into my mirror, asking a couple of friends, and reaching deep into my Slytherin-ness (is that even a word?) I have decided, that my resignation might just have been a bit too hasty. So I will keep going. 
  2. You may write your own version of Death’s Hand, (or any other versions of my stories for that matter). However, you cannot copy and paste. These, while they are fan fictions, are my brain-children. I put a lot of time and effort into these stories. However, if you do write your own versions, please link them to me, so I can read them. 
  3. The adoption of any of my stories is not happening. I’m not a fan of it. Sorry.
  4. I will be returning. However, Not All Slytherins Are Death Eaters, Soldier, and Proctor will be cancelled. They will never return. 
  5. The following stories will be rewritten: Death’s Hand, Frankenstein and Trevorrow. 
  6. I have new stories in the works. However, I am trying to write the majority of chapters first, so that I can work it all out, and not just upload, and then have nothing for months on end. 
  7. I will be keeping the original copies of these stories up. In the end, too many people enjoy them, (even if I find them all to be cringy) That includes the stories I have cancelled. I cringe in horror, but you guys have been asking. 

Well, I think that’s everything. If I’ve missed anything, please do write a review, or PM me, and I’ll respond as much as I can. I hope this helped. Sorry for scaring you all. 

Stay safe, drink lots of butterbeer, wash your hands, and be careful in isolation.

Lily Carmen Black 

P.S. 

Prepare thyself for hyper-medieval Lord of the Rings stuff. I couldn’t help myself.

P.S. # 2. 

Fanfiction will returns soon.


	5. The Final Message

**25th of May, 2020**

Dear my wonderful, amazing readers,

Thirty days have passed since I wrote those who rather long, and somewhat conflicting letters about what I am going to be doing with these stories and accounts on Fanfiction, ArchiveOfOurOwn, and Wattpad. Since the 10th of May, 2020, I have closed down my Wattpad. I have decided, after flipping back and forth that I will also close down my Fanfiction, and ArchiveOfOurOwn, accounts too.

My reasons are put forth in my **“Well, It’s Been A Long One”** and **“Hi, Again”** letters. These two letters will be removed from every story and instead put up onto the profile, along with this one. My reasons for what you the readers wish to do with my stories still state:

  1. You may write your own version of Death's Hand, (or any other versions of my stories for that matter). However, you cannot copy and paste. These, while they are fan-fictions, are my brain-children. I put a lot of time and effort into these stories. However, if you do write your own versions, please link them to me, so I can read them.
  2. The adoption of any of my stories is not happening. I'm not a fan of it. Sorry.
  3. I will no be returning.
  4. The following stories will be not rewritten: Death's Hand, Frankenstein, Trevorrow, Not All Slytherins Are Death Eaters, Soldier, and Proctor. They will never return.
  5. I will be keeping the original copies of these stories up. In the end, too many people enjoy them, (even if I find them all to be cringe-y). That includes the stories I have cancelled. I cringe in horror, but you guys have been asking.

If there are any new questions you would like to tell me, please PM me.

Thank you,

Lily Carmen Black


End file.
